A Long Expected Wedding
by RosieLemondrop
Summary: The day has finally come: Samwise and Rose are getting married! But what happens when one of them (or both) gets cold feet? Sam and Rosie, along with others, remember the past. CHAPTER 6 (part 1) POSTED!
1. Default Chapter

Author's Note: Greetings, all!! Welcome to my first ever fanfic!! *Hurray, throws confetti* Well, maybe it's not _that _momentous of an occasion: I guess you'll all be the judge of that. Anyway, thanks for stopping by, and be sure to review on your way out! I hope you like it. @---Luv, luck, and all things hobbit-ish, ~Lemondrop~ 

*   *   *

            It was the first of May, and everyone in Hobbiton agreed it was a splendid day--one could not choose a more perfect day for a wedding. The hills of the Shire buzzed with the palpable anticipation of hundreds of Hobbits, all giddy with fresh air and ale. Under a near sapphire blue sky the halflings mingled merrily, scurrying to and fro with pastries and food, ribbons and flowers. It had been five months since the unexpected return of Frodo Baggins and his companions, and in that short time the Shire had been blessedly returned to its normal state. Well, _almost _its normal state, for as resilient as Hobbits tend to be, the memory of dark days past was not easily shaken. Today, however, was not a day for such depressing thoughts. The only celebration more important than birthdays in Hobbiton was weddings, and this was the wedding of the very Hobbit responsible for the quick recovery of the Shire. But in all the hustle and bustle of last minute preparations, no one thought to worry about the groom...

*   *   *

            Samwise Gamgee was pacing back and forth across his sunlit room in Bag End, absently rubbing his calloused hands together. He was wearing his nicest trousers, paired with a cream linen shirt, which was coming half untucked at the waist in his pacing. His vest lay forgotten on the floor.

            "Come on, Sam, you've faced much worse than this."

            "Aye," he answered himself, "but the worst came with the best of hopes. Now you've got the best and it comes with the worst. What if you let her down Sam? What if you're not good enough?"

            He began another preoccupied lap around the room. "I'll die before I let her down," he said to himself fiercely. "She's worth two of me, whichever way I look at it."

            "She shouldn't have said yes," he retorted miserably. "She deserves much better. Why did she ever agree?"

            "Because she loves you."

            Sam jumped at the last and turned to find his dearest friend standing in the doorway. Frodo was looking splendid in his feast day clothes, and even in his fretful state Sam noted that his master looked more like Mr. Bilbo than ever. Frodo smiled and went over to Sam, scooping up the forlorn vest from the floor and shaking it out.

            "Why are you so worried, Sam?" Frodo chuckled, holding out the vest so Sam could put his shaking arms through it. "This should be the happiest moment of your life."

            Sam slipped the vest on and tried to make his fingers work the buttons; he failed miserably. "It is, Mr. Frodo, it is. But I can't help wondering if I'm doing the right thing."

            "The right thing?"

            "For Rose, I mean. This is a long term decision, if you take my meaning."

            Frodo stopped for a moment and gazed at Sam thoughtfully, as if puzzled by what he was hearing. Then he helped Sam with the last button and brushed the final wrinkles from Sam's front. "Have you spoken to Rosie about this?

            Sam shrugged and wandered to the open window. Outside, in the near distance, he could see his friends and fellow Hobbits immersed in the preparation of the coming wedding. His wedding. Their wedding. He propped himself with his arms against the sill and sighed deeply. "Truth be told, sir, it hadn't crossed my mind until this morning." 

On impulse, he leaned out over the ledge, picking one of his carefully tended roses from its bush. It was plump and red, bursting with lush beauty. Sam lifted it to his nose and was immediately struck lightheaded. His senses rushed with the very essence of his Rosie; her smell, her gentleness, the soft brush of lips like petals against his own. Her goodness, her kindness...pure perfection. Somewhere beyond the border of his senses, Frodo's voice reached him.

            "Hadn't thought of what?"

            Sam exhaled, and sadly remembered that all of the reasons why he loved her were also all of the reasons why he shouldn't have her. He looked at Frodo and shook his head slowly. "I don't deserve her." 

            Frodo crossed his arms and looked Sam, amusement and seriousness battling for domination of his face. _So this is what has got him so troubled._  "Samwise Gamgee, you mean to tell me that a fine lad like yourself does not think himself worthy of such a lass as Rosie Cotton?"

            Again Sam shrugged, lost in the intricate form of the petals in his hand.

            Frodo sauntered over, his eyes never leaving his best friend's face. "Tell me, Sam: what is the one thing you want? More than anything in the world?"

            At first, Frodo was not sure Sam had heard him, but then Sam raised one pudgy gardener's finger and traced the rose nestled in his palm.

            "And this thing that you want...is it within your grasp? Is it almost yours?"

            Sam did nothing. Frodo grimaced as he met the wall of Sam's doubts, but quickly pulled back for another blow.

            "Can you imagine life without her, Sam?" he pressed, his voice lowering to a whisper.

            Sam shook his head. His eyes remained steadfast on the crimson flower. Frodo quirked a smile.

             "Have you thought about the children?"

            Sam made a slight choking sound and his eyes shot to Frodo's face. "Now Mr. Frodo," he began, blushing deeply.

            Frodo laughed and put a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Listen to me, Samwise. For years you have given me your devotion and your love, and you will never know how grateful for that I am. But it's time for you to give that love to someone else. Someone you desperately want to give it to, and someone who desperately wants to recieve it. And there is no lass in all Middle Earth who wants your love more than Rosie Cotton. You deserve her, Sam, just as much as she deserves you. Don't ever doubt that."

            Sam looked at Frodo, his dear, sweet master, and knew that Frodo would not tell him wrong. A wash of gratitude swept through him and he pulled Frodo into a one-armed hug, still cradling the rose in his other hand.

            "Thank you, Mr. Frodo,"

            "Of course, Sam."

            Pulling away, Sam's eyes traveled once again to the open window. The sky was an incredible forget-me-not blue. _I wonder when the last time was that I saw a sky like this_, Sam thought. He suddenly had a dire need to be out under that bright canopy, to be in the fresh air. His head was filled with so many thoughts and revelations that it seemed his small room in Bag End could no longer handle them all. He gave Frodo an apologetic smile.

            "If you'll excuse me, Mr. Frodo, I've still got some thinking to do. Do you mind if I step out for a moment or two?"

            Frodo gave him another pat on the shoulder. "Without question, my good lad, so long as you return by midday. I don't think it would do to be late for your own wedding."

            With a thankful grin and a nod, Sam moved to the door. He opened it and began to step out, then stopped. "Mr. Frodo?"

            "Yes?"

            Sam looked at the flower in his hand sheepishly for a moment before continuing. "We have thought about the children, since you mention it. We mean to name our first after you." With that, he turned and left.

            Frodo stood in silence for a few moments, letting Sam's words run their course. Then he turned back to the window with a contented chuckle, just in time to see Sam walking merrily down New Row.  
  



	2. A Soggy Hobbit Lad

                Author's Note: I feel so loved! *hugs for all* **THANKYOU** I'm glad the first chapter went over so well *sigh of relief* It's hard trying to do justice to one of the greatest works of all time :) I also realized that, in my excitement of finally posting something, I forgot to put a disclaimer: I own none of the wonderful characters in this story, for they are the brilliant, mind boggling creations of the good Mr. Tolkein himself. I only hope he doesn't mind my imagination playing with them a bit :)

**Aemilia Rose**: *big hugs* Hurray! My favorite author is my first reviewer! Thank you so much for your encouraging words, and thank you also for putting me on your favorites list--It's so nice to have such a warm welcome :) *pinches Sam's other cheek* yes, he is quite the sweetie, isn't he?

**Rosa Cotton**: I'm so glad you like the story so far--and yes, there will be multiple chapters! If all goes according to plan, I might reach ten and an epilogue, but we'll have to see. I'm on your favorites list too? Thanks! *hugs* hope you enjoy the coming chapter!

**Crimson-dawn123**: yes, there is a shortage of non-slash Sam fics: my main hobbit needs some more credit on this site. Wow, I'm glad you liked the story so much! If you really need a Sam/Rosie fix, though, visit Aemilia Rose and Rosa Cotton--they're both amazing :) I hope you'll be getting some stories up soon too!

*Whew* sorry, had to give some love out to my charter reviewers :) A few final notes: Rosie's brothers make an appearance in this chapter, both with their true names and their nick names as follows: **Tolman = Tom; Wilcome = Jolly; Bowman = Nick**. . Also, I'm making Wilcome Rosie's twin brother, because according to the appendix, they were born in the same year, with Rose listed first. If you have any age questions, e-mail me, and I'll map it out for you This will all be important in later chapters. Anyway, hope you like this week's chapter! @--- Luv, luck, and ROTK is out in 8 days! ~Lemondrop~

*   *   *

            Everything was starting to come into place. The tables were finally being set up in the party field, thanks to the direction of Masters Meriadoc and Peregrin. A few Hobbit men drove up in a cart full of ale fresh from the Green Dragon, and a new commotion arose as they attempted to carry them to one of the tents without trodding on the Hobbit lads and lasses that had decided to run across the field. The women were gathering flowers by the bunches, because after all, it was the wedding of the Shire's best gardener, and it wasn't as if there was ever a shortage of lilies and poppies and roses these days. One of the women caught a lad by the ear as he ran by, and instructed him to take a trip to the Cotton's farm across the way, to check if Mrs. Cotton had finished with the cake yet...

*   *   *

                The dress was beautiful. Rose was in awe of the sheer delicacy of the garment; the cream fabric, the smoky-pink underskirt, the lace trim on the hem and neckline. Her fingers found the pink satin bow trailing from the waist and twirled around it. She tried to envision her mother in the dress, those many years ago when she was just a young lass embarking on a new chapter in her life. A chapter, Rose reminded herself, that she was about to write for her own life.

            She felt something lurch in her stomach and turned to the bed, suddenly dizzy and shaking. She put a hand to her head and breathed deeply. What had happened? She wasn't--no, she couldn't be nervous.

            "Come now, Rose, this is what you've been waiting for! There was a time you thought this day would never come! Now it's here and you're acting like a ninnyhammer."

            "Ninnyhammer indeed," she scolded herself, "Whatever would Sam think if he saw you like this? Surely he wouldn't approve, especially after all that he's been through. He's changed so much."

            "But for all he's changed he's stayed the same." Rose smiled as she remembered his return those five months ago. Her family had seen the change in his clothes, but she had seen the change in his eyes. He was the same Sam, but with more burdens to bear, more memories to cope with, than she would ever know. "And even if he is braver than you are now, he would never hold it against you."

            "But he's seen so much, Rose. He's famous to all of Middle Earth. How can you expect to hold him down? What if he leaves again? What if his heart no longer belongs to the Shire alone? To you alone?"

            Rosie got up and went to a small mirror hanging on her wall. Her reflection stared back at her, pale and nervous. She smiled at the silliness of it all. Sam would not have asked her to marry if he didn't want it with all his heart. Otherwise, he probably wouldn't have had the courage to do it. 

            Memories of days gone by flashed in Rosie's mind. She almost laughed aloud as she remembered the first time she met him...

*   *   *

            Little Rosie Cotton looked up at her mother. Lily had just finished cleaning up after second breakfast and was hard at work cooking for elevenses. Rosie tugged at her mother's apron, but was gently swished away.

            "Not now, my little flower. I've got to get these rolls baked."

            Rosie looked at her feet, then to the door. "Momma, will the boys be back soon?"

            Lily sighed, and wiped the flower from her hands. "Yes, Rose, soon. Now you must let me alone, dear. Tolman's friend Samwise is coming for elevenses, so I'll have four hungry lads to feed instead of three, not to mention your father. I've a lot of cooking ahead of me."

            Rose wandered into the sitting room and plopped herself by the fire. She was just starting to anger herself with the thought of her brothers leaving her alone with nothing to do when the front door burst open. Three laughing lads erupted into the sitting room--three laughing lads and one soggy miserable looking one.

            Rose looked curiously at the hobbit lad dripping water all over the entrance floor. He looked familiar to her...mother had said his name was Samwise. Of course! He looked like Rosie's friend Marigold Gamgee--he must be her older brother.

            Just then Lily Cotton's voice came from the kitchen. "You lads had best get back outside before you wake up Nibs. I just laid him down for a nap."

            The boys quieted a bit, but not much. Tolman patted Sam on the shoulder. "I'll go and get you a blanket, Sam," he said between his laughter.

            Rosie decided it was time to make her presence known. "Jolly, why can't I ever go out with you boys?"

            Wilcome didn't even look at Rose; he was too busy laughing. "Because you're not old enough," he called over his shoulder.

            Rosie stood up and crossed her arms indignantly, glaring at her twin. "Well I don't know if that's a very good reason. I'm certainly older than Nick, and I'm older than you too!"

            "You are not," Wilcome shot back, "We're twins! We're the same age!"

            Rosie shook her head. "No, Momma says that I was born first--that makes me older than you."

            Now it was Wilcome's turn to glare. It was a comical sight, for both looked so alike, with that same scowl on their faces. "Fine then," Wilcome said stubbornly, "It's because you're a     lass."

            Rosie opened her mouth in defiance, but at that moment Tolman reappeared, carrying a hefty blanket. "All right, I'll have none of that," Tom said, tossing the blanket over a silent Sam's shoulders. "Rose, we let you come along often enough, and you slept through breakfast this morning." Rosie looked thoroughly unconvinced. "And Jolly, you'd best watch who you make mad. You know Rose can outrun you, lad or not." Wilcome looked equally unpleased, but not as unconvinced, for he knew it was true.

            Tolman turned his attention back to Sam. "Are you alright?"

            "What happened?" Rosie asked Sam, her eyes on his. She had never been a shy child.

            Sam's face turned a shade of embarrassment, and the boys erupted again into gales of laughter. Rosie thought she heard Sam mutter something about what his gaffer would do to him when he came home.

            "We were fishing in the stream behind Old Sandyman's mill," Nick explained to Rose.

            "And Sam got his line stuck in a tree," Tolman continued.

            "And you know the rule--"

            "I know," Rose said impatiently, cutting off Wilcome, with whom she was still angry. "'He who's able to catch a tree must be able to set it free.'" she recited promptly.

            "Exactly," Tolman said, laughter building again in his voice. "So Sam starts to climb the tree, and just as he's reaching out for his hook--"

            Tolman, Wilcome, and Bowman were swallowed by their laughter once more. Rosie looked to Sam, who shrugged his blanket-covered shoulders. "I guess I've never been very good at climbing trees."

            Rosie raised a hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle.

            Lily Cotton strode into the room, waving a sauce-covered spoon in front of her. "Now I told you lads to be quiet, and--" she laid eyes on Sam, who was now shivering slightly. "Good gracious! What happened here?"

            Sam chose that moment to sneeze, which only made the three Cotton boys laugh harder. Mrs. Cotton took Sam by the shoulders and ushered him further into the room. "Here, Samwise, come sit by the fire and dry out. I don't know who's pond you jumped into, but your gaffer won't take kindly to me sending you home with a chill."

            "And you three!" She rounded on her sons, stirring spoon at the ready. "Out! I've not got time to deal with Nibs if he wakes up, and unless you would like to play with him, I suggest you take your noise outside, so he can sleep and I can cook!"

            The door closed behind them and all was quiet, except for the crackling of the fire and the sound of water dripping from Sam's hair and hitting the wooden floor.

            Rose went and sat next to Sam, studying him with her bright blue eyes, as children so often do to strangers. Sam patiently tolerated her gaze, as so many strangers do not. Finally, Rosie broke the silence.

            "You're Marigold's brother, aren't you?" 

            Sam grinned. "Yes, I am."

            Rosie nodded, her suspicions confirmed. "Do you let her play with you?"

            Sam shrugged. "Sometimes, when she wants to play with me."

            "Even though she's a lass?"

            Sam nodded.

            Rosie looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, then sighed, pulled her knees top her chest, and rested her chin upon them. "Sometimes I wish I wasn't a lass."

            "Well that's not a very good thing to wish," Sam said. "If there were no lasses, life would be downright dull, like dirt without flowers."

            Rosie considered this, then looked at her fire-side companion. "You're nothing like my brothers, you know."

            "Boys! Tolman! Rosie! Come fill your plates!"

            Sam stood, his hair almost dry now. "Come, little lass. If you can't go fishing with your brothers, at least you can beat them to elevenses."

*   *   *

            Rose took one last look at the dress on its hook before leaving her room. She had a lot to think about, and needed to be outside to do it. Silently, she wondered if Sam remembered their first meeting too.


	3. That Would Be Fine

                Author's note: good gracious, I'm finally back. Sorry for my long absence, but among Christmas shopping, trying to pull up my AP economics grade, watching ROTK, applying for college, and saving the world, I lost track of time and had little to devote to the development of this chapter. However, it is finally here, for your viewing pleasure. Imagine my surprise when my review list went from three to fifteen! Thank you again, readers, and I hope this chapter continues as well as the others. It gave me some trouble to write. It's also the longest chapter you'll see for a while—hope you don't mind lots of words J.

            **Aemilia Rose**: and spending too much time with Sam is a bad thing? *wink* Hurray for blankets and tea, for stories would never be the same without them J

            **Danielle of Airls**: thank you so much for your two reviews (I love long reviewers J) I'm so glad you are enjoying the story. Sorry to keep you waiting, I hope you haven't given up on me...

            **Rosa Cotton**: Muchas gracias. I hope I reach ten chapters anyway J

            **Rowen**: Thank you! Tissues for Sam! 

            **crimson dawn 123**: Hurray! I made someone's day!

            **Lady of Ithilien**: Yes, Rosie is hardly mentioned, but that gives room to play J I loved writing little Rose. Growing up in a house of boys was a good tip off for her character.

            **Mint Sauce**: I hope that after my absence you have woken up from passing out. Thanks! *Huggles Sam* I know, he's the best!

            **kalika-child-of-twilight**: hey, bunny. I see you to often to care anymore. j/k Thanks for stopping by.

            **ENTr Imperceptus**: wow, thanks. I love the spoon!

            **Danny Barefoot**: Down with sexist rubbish! I'm glad you approve of Rosie's apprehensions. Yes, Sam is rather confident...but this story isn't _all_ about Sam's fears. Don't worry, I know where this is going; it's the details that keep me tied up most often. As I say, if all goes according to plan, I'll reach ten. Unfortunately, things seldom go according to plan for me :) "but they might meet by accident..." well aren't you a sneaky little plot predictor...I guess you'll just have to keep reading to find out J

            Wow, that was tiring. Once again, many thanks to all the readers. On with the story! @--- luv, luck, and really long author's notes, ~Lemondrop~

*   *   *

            "Not over there! Not over there!"

            Master Peregrin's cry was carried away with the wind that had just caught one of the tents and pulled it from the hands of some unsuspecting Hobbits. They had been trying to peg it to the ground, but a swift breeze had been just enough to pull it from their grasp. Pippin shook his head in dismay as the group went crowding after it, a swarm of arms and legs and strings and hammers. The hobbit children laughed gleefully as they watched their parents chasing the gracefully floating tent across the lawn. With his hands on his hips, Pippin turned away from the chaotic scene and focused his attention toward New Row. He spotted a Hobbit lad walking along the clean dirt path, and almost disregarded him as a passerby. But he knew that stride. Again, Pippin shook his head. That lad was supposed to be getting ready for his wedding, and here he was, strolling in the morning sun...

*   *   *

            Sam chuckled to himself as the memory of his first meeting with Rosie played across his mind. He could still see her stubborn little face, the scrutiny in her eyes, as clear as yesterday's sky. She had just been a little thing back then, all curls and Hobbit feet, with bright blue eyes peeking between thick lashes. A child so full of innocence, but at the same time saturated with a kind of sure wisdom, for she had been in the time of her life when everything she did was right, and not even her brothers could tell her otherwise. 

            It had been the first of many meetings with Rose. As Tolman had said that day, Rose spent most of her time in the company of her brothers, whether they liked it or no. But she was never a shadow. She was surefooted and proud, always ready to take the lead, always ready to jump when her brothers were still apprehensive. Sam himself had spent numerous sunny (and rainy) days with the Cotton clan, playing games and singing songs as Hobbit children like to do. 

            Sam stopped in his tracks for a moment, lost in a pocket of thought. When exactly had Rose gone from friend to more? They had always been close, even from their first meeting by the fireside. But where was the end of little Rose Cotton and the beginning of his Rosie?

            Hands in his pockets, Sam continued his journey down New Row. Perhaps it had not been one moment, but a series of moments. A time of friendship slowly changing into a time of love. As he meandered past the commotion of the party field, his eyes fell upon the mallorn tree, growing tall and proud above the preoccupied Hobbits that surrounded it. It marked the site of the original party tree, which had stood there for many years before it's premature demise. A smile crossed Sam's face. Perhaps there hadn't been a specific moment when he had fallen in love with Rose. But there had been a specific moment when he had realized it.

            He had been so upset to return home to the Shire only to find that the Party Tree had been cut down. Mr. Frodo knew it to be only an anger at the loss of a landmark of Uncle Bilbo's great party. However there was more than one reason that Sam had been angry to see the tree gone. Mr. Frodo did not know that it had been a landmark of a very different sort for Sam...

*   *   *

            Sam lay on his stomach, buried in the sea of brown hay that surrounded him. He waited in silence, wondering where Tom was lurking. The sun's rays pressed down on his back and the silence was broken only when the wind danced with the tall blades of grass. Sam listened carefully during those periods of sound, searching for the almost nonexistent rustle of a Hobbit's tread. He could not afford to be caught first—it happened far too often.

Far to his right, from what he guessed to be the edge of the field, came a sweet, yet teasing, female voice. "Tom, don't you think we're getting to be a bit old for these types of games?" Rose called from her hiding place.

"To old for Dragon in the High Grass?" Tom called back incredulously, off to Sam's left and far too close to where he was hiding. "One's never too old for Dragon in the High Grass! Now be quiet! This dragon is supposed to be finding his prey on his own accord…"

"I've forgotten where Safe Haven is, Tom!" Rosie cried, heedless of his request for her to be quiet.

"Mr. Bilbo's party tree, Rose! You know that's always the Safe Haven when we play in this field!"

In the midst of Tom and Rosie's brief argument, Sam had tried to slither away from Tom unnoticed. However, in a few quick steps Tom was on him, pinning him to the ground and laughing merrily. "Once again, Samwise, you are the first to be caught!"

Sam grumbled to himself as Tom helped him up from the ground. If he was not good at climbing trees, he was no better at hiding during tag games with the Cottons. Now he was a dragon too, and would have to catch someone else. Not that it mattered; he would much rather seek than be sought.

Tom grabbed Sam by the arm and whispered conspiratorially into his ear. "Not that you need any help, dear Sam, but you heard Rose at the other end of the field. Besides, I can't sneak up on her the way you can—she knows what my feet sound like." He looked down at his Hobbit feet, apparently disgusted that they had ruined the fun of catching his younger sister during such games. "Why don't you look for her and I'll find the others?" With that he was off, stepping quietly as a Hobbit can toward a tuft of shaking grass that promised to be little Nibs.

            Sam grinned as he turned in the opposite direction. He may not be good at hiding, but when it came to seeking, he was one of the best. He tiptoed off in what he assumed to be Rose's direction, looking carefully at the blades in front of him so as not to miss the slightest movement.

            Quite too soon, he arrived at the edge of the field, with no telling of where Rosie lay. With another quiet grumble to himself, he began to make his way back into the field.

            Unexpectedly, a hand wrapped around Sam's ankle. Caught off guard, he tumbled to the ground.

            Rosie giggled and put a hand over Sam's mouth to quiet him. "Shhhhhh," she whispered, then let go and crept to the edge of her hiding place, parting the blades of grass just enough to track the movements of Tom.

            Sam rubbed the elbow he had fallen on. "What are we being quiet for? I'm a dragon, and now so are you. We should be helping Tom catch the others."

            Rosie's eyes sparkled. "If I remember correctly, Sam, the dragon is supposed to do the catching. And if I'm not mistaken, it is I that caught you."

            "I don't like that look in your eyes, Miss Rose," Sam said with a sideways grin, "What are you plotting?"

            Rose opened her mouth to answer, but stopped as a gleeful shriek sounded across the field. She smiled. "I'm tired of Tom winning this game all the time. From the sound of it, he's just caught Marigold." She beckoned Sam to her side.

            Sam went and knelt beside his friend, peering through the screen of grass at the moving figures of Tom and Marigold. He nodded in understanding. "So you're waiting for Tom to find everyone," he whispered by her ear.

            "Exactly," Rose whispered back, "and then we'll run to the Party Tree. We're the closest—we can get a head start and beat him to the Safe Haven!"

            "Wait a minute, Rose…what do you mean 'we'?"

            Rose was still watching the game. "Marigold's just found Nick!" she gasped excitedly, "Now all Tom has to do is find Jolly."

            "Rosie, did you—"

            "He's almost found him, get ready, Sam."

            "But Rosie, you know I can't run—"

            "Oh! He's caught Jolly! Come on, Sam!"

            Before he knew it, he was off and running, his hand caught tight in Rosie's. Together they burst from the hay field and made a beeline for the Party Tree, the amused shouts of the Cotton boys and Sam's sister echoing behind them. Rosie dashed this way and that, weaving through passersby and carts and bushes, all the while with Sam in tow. They almost collided with a rather grumpy old Hobbit who yelled something about "reckless tweeners" to their retreating backs. Across Bagshot Row they tore, through puddles and rocks, until they reached the straightaway of the Party Field. Here, Sam looked back over his shoulder. Tom had taken up the chase, and was gaining on them fast. "Um, Rose?!" Sam called to the lass that held his hand.

            "I know," Rose called back breathlessly, "Time to pick up the pace, Sam!"

            "Pick up the pace?!" Sam cried. 

            To his surprise, he had little trouble keeping up with Rose, despite her speed. Soon Tom stopped gaining, and the space between them remained steady. 

            Suddenly, Rose stopped. Caught unawares, Sam toppled into her and they fell to the ground in a heap.

            "Rosie, I'm sorry!" Sam gasped franticly, "I told you I couldn't run—"

            "Sam, stop jabbering! We made it!"

            Confusedly, Sam took in his surroundings. Indeed, there they were, at the base of Mr. Bilbo's Party Tree.

            "Look out!"

A crowd of hurrying Hobbits, led by Tom, crashed into Sam and Rose, turning what was once only a Hobbit lad and lass into a twitching, giggling, gasping mass of seven Hobbit lads and lasses. For a long time they lay in a pile, too full of laughter and empty of breath to do much else. Finally, they disentangled themselves and got to their feet.

"Well," breathed Tom, "It's about time someone beat me at this game…I was beginning to think I had lost my competition!"

Rosie smiled radiantly and squeezed Sam's hand gently. It was then that Sam noticed neither of them had let go. On the contrary, their fingers had become entwined. Sam regarded this curiously for a moment, and almost broke the connection, then stopped himself. Something about Rose's hand in his seemed so…natural.

 One by one, the Cotton boys turned in the direction of home. Marigold waved goodbye to Rose and reminded Sam before she left that their Gaffer needed help weeding Mr. Bilbo's garden that afternoon. Only Wilcome hesitated a moment, giving his twin sister a curious look before following the others.

Still, Rose's hand remained in Sam's. "I told you not to worry," she said, the ever present hint of laughter dancing in her voice.

Sam caught her eyes with his. "No you didn't! I was trying to tell you I couldn't run fast enough and you pulled me off!"

"Well, if I would have told you, you wouldn't have listened anyway," Rose said light heartedly. "And it looks to me that you can run as fast as me, Samwise Gamgee. You just never gave yourself the chance before." She paused and looked down at their hands, still resting placidly inside each other, then returned her gaze to his face. "There are lots of times when you're too hard on yourself, Sam. No matter what your Gaffer calls you or what my brothers say to you--." She broke off, and Sam thought he saw a glimmer of something deep in her eyes that he had never seen before. What was it? She smiled. "Just don't be afraid to give yourself the chance." She gave his hand a final squeeze, then gently released her fingers from his. Sam watched as she walked back down the hill, the sun bouncing off her brunette curls as she headed toward home.

~~~~~~~~

The next night had found Sam at the Cotton's front doorstep. He had come home the previous day to find his Gaffer's wheelbarrow with a loose tire. He was supposed to finish fertilizing the hills of Bag End early the next morning, and without a wheelbarrow it would be a daunting task indeed. He hadn't had time to fix it, so he had taken a quick trip to the Cotton's farm to see if he could borrow theirs.

            When Rose opened the door, Sam couldn't hold back his smile. She returned it warmly, and Sam was surprised to feel a blush rising in his cheeks. Rose had never made him blush before—why was now any different?

            "Hullo, Sam. What brings you here at this hour?" Rose asked brightly, her smile never leaving her flushed cheeks.

            For a moment, Sam couldn't speak. He gave himself a mental kick. _For the Shire's sake, Samwise, it's just Rosie_. "Actually, Rose, I came to see if I could borrow your father's wheelbarrow. Mine's in a right state, and I need to be getting on with Mr. Bilbo's backyard tomorrow. If it's not too much trouble," he added hastily.

            "Not at all," Rose replied easily. She stepped out next to Sam and closed the door quietly behind her. "Papa's taking his after-supper nap; it would be best not to wake him. I'll just take you to the garden shed."

            Without a moment's hesitation, Rose took Sam's hand in hers, her fingers falling comfortably into place between his own. A feeling of deep content settled on Sam, and the butterflies that had been beating against his chest laid to rest. This was where he was meant to be—hand in hand, side by side, with his beloved Rose.

            Rosie led him around the back of the farm to a little underground shed built into one of the hills. Here she let go of Sam's hand and opened the door. She rummaged around for a few moments inside, then emerged with the wheelbarrow. "It might need a little oil on the wheel, but it's better than having a loose—" She stopped and looked at Sam, who suddenly realized he had been staring at her for entirely too long. "What's on your mind, Sam?" she asked quietly.

            What had been on Sam's mind had been a very radical realization—that he loved this lass, this Rosie Cotton, and maybe always had. He looked into her eyes, those endless pools of dewdrop blue, and an echo of her voice resounded in his mind: _don't be afraid to give yourself the chance._ Suddenly, a stronger, braver Sam seemed to surface. "Miss Rose? Do you think it would be alright if I kissed you?"

            This bold Sam retreated as quickly as he had appeared. In the second of silence that followed he scolded himself with every name his Gaffer had ever invented. Why had he even asked that? He was so—

            His thoughts were silenced as Rosie's lips found his. Instantly, he was thrown into a whirlpool of dizzied pleasure, and would have fallen backward had Rose not held him there with her touch. And all the while, a voice played at the back of Sam's mind, quietly telling him that this was it—this was where he was meant to be.

            All too soon, Rose pulled away, just enough to look Sam in the eyes, their noses close enough to touch. Her breath was warm on his face as she spoke, her voice painted with the laughter that was Rose: "I think that would be fine, Sam."

            All Sam could do was smile.

*   *   *

            "Sam? Sam!"

            A hand fell on Sam's shoulder and he was jolted abruptly from his reverie. His eyes were ripped from the Mallorn tree and landed on the face of Peregrin Took, standing in front of him. Sam smiled brightly and gave his companion a quick embrace. "How long have you been standing there, Master Pippin?"

            Pippin snorted. "Long enough to know you haven't heard a word I've said, so I'll ask it again: what are you doing here, Sam? You're supposed to be getting ready for a wedding. Sam?"

            Sam's eyes had again slid out of focus, as if he were lost in some memory. Pippin sighed.

            "You're not getting cold feet, are you?"

            "No master Pippin," Sam said cheerfully, returning to their conversation. "My feet have not been cold since our trip up the Misty Mountains, and that's the truth."

            Pippin chuckled. "I meant you're not getting nervous? We can't have you running off unless you've got Rose in your arms, and I'm afraid you'll have to wait until after the ceremony for that—Rose got us some of the best ale in the Shire from the Green Dragon, and I'm not about to let your nerves ruin a good reason for me to have a drink."

            While Pippin spoke, Sam began to remember some of the feelings that he had woken up with that morning: an unfounded apprehension for what was to come that afternoon. He struggled to remember what Mr. Frodo had said that morning, but he could not recall the exact words. In the end he had to settle for simply pushing his fears to the side, for a time when Master Pippin was not there to distract him from his musings.

            "No fears there, Pippin," Sam said, patting Pippin's arm. "But if you'll excuse me, I need to be getting on my way—I need to…um…well, I need to see to some things." Pippin opened his mouth to reply, but Sam looked again to the Party Field. "And it seems you need to see to those tents, or there will be no place for you to drink your ale no how."

            Pippin turned to see his crew, now totally wrapped in the unruly tent that had run away so mischievously before. He ran off to aid them, and Sam continued on his journey. For a moment, he wondered to himself what Rose was doing, what she was feeling, while he walked past the scenes of New Row.


	4. No Longer His Alone

            Author's note: I'm actually making good time on this chapter! *pats self on back* Hurray for being on task. This chapter is considerably shorter than the last, but was also one of the first scenes I wrote for this fic. I love it when I do things backwards :)

            **Lady of Ithilien**: I'm so glad you thought it was perfect. I wanted Sam and Rosie's love to feel lived in and comfortable, but exciting at the same time. The "feeling of deep content..." section was one of my favorite lines. And yes, Pippin (as he always seems to do somehow) just had to make his presence known :) Glad you're enjoying the story!

            **crimson-dawn123**: Thank you! Yes, this story is based primarily on flashbacks, and I'm glad you like them because I was kind of unsure about the notion of telling the whole story like that. But it seems to be working so far. I love writing the young hobbits! They're so cute! *huggles them all*

            **Rosa Cotton**: Oh good, you like long chapters :) yes...tents and fluff and sweet hobbit kisses...these are a few of my favorite things :) I love Dancing, but not Dancing _and _it's sequel! It was one of the fics that set the plot bunnies on my case in the first place!

            **Rowen**: Yes, Rosie _is _the little flirt, isn't she? And as you say, Sam's just an innocent little hobbit. But he's quickly approaching his coming of age, as well as a great mess of a journey that will change him forever...*hugs poor, dear Sam* We'll just have to see how that all plays out...

            **Aemilia Rose**: I'm so glad you latched onto that line. That truly was the first line that I wrote for this fic, the line that I built the story around. Thanks so much!

            **szhismine**: Aw, thank you, and welcome to my little tale :) Yes, they're both nervous at the moment aren't they? I wonder if it will be for long... :)

            **Herculeha**: Welcome! I was wondering when you were going to show up :) Thank you so much, I'm so glad you like it. You were also one of the authors that set a plot bunny on me :) And I read that you will have a new My Sunshine chapter up soon *does a happy dance* I'm really excited!

            **Len**: _Wow_, the sweetest thing you've ever read on fanfic? Thank you! I'm glad you liked it...I wanted that scene to be perfect :) Welcome to the story!

            Well, now that that's over...*pushes ego back to its rightful size* Thank you all for being so supportive...it means a lot :) This chapter presents a new POV and a new spin on Sam and Rose's relationship. A quick note: i'm assuming that the Cotton's lived in a hobbit hole before the Shire was destroyed, so remember that the First Kiss happened in the back yard of the Hobbit hole. The scenes that take place on the day of the wedding are at the Cotton's _house_, which for the purposes of this story is in a different location than that of the original Cotton hole. @--- luv, luck, and most heartfelt thanks, ~Lemondrop~

P.S.: I don't know why my stars are in the wrong spot...you'll just have to tolerate them on the left side of the page :)

*   *   *

                To everyone's great relief, the troublesome breeze was soon gone, and with the exception of a few bruises, no one had been hurt by the wayward tent. Pippin returned to his post, giving quick directions in an effort to make up for time lost. In his haste to get things running smoothly again, he soon forgot about the groom's strange desire to take a stroll. It was only when Merry came to ask if he should check on the happenings at Bag End that Pippin realized he had done a terrible thing...he had let the groom escape.

            Across the field and a little way down the road, a hobbit lad ran breathlessly up the sloping front lawn to the Cotton's farm. He was irritated that he had been sent to check on the cake, and wanted to get back to the party field quickly...

*   *   *

            The shed behind the Cotton farmhouse was alive with the sound of a hurriedly pounding hammer. Wilcome was bent over his work, intent on having his gift completed in time for the wedding. He stopped to brush his brown curls from his eyes, then lowered his chisel to the piece of wood again.

            He was beginning to feel sorry that he hadn't thought of the gift earlier; it would have saved him a lot of stress if he had begun the project a fortnight ago. But the idea hadn't come to him until two days earlier, and in that time he had been working long and hard to finish. He had even skipped second breakfast two days in a row, another thing he felt sorry for as his stomach grumbled at him from below. But it was worth it. After all, he only had one twin sister, and this was her wedding day. Everything had to be perfect. 

            With a few final taps of the hammer, Wilcome stepped back to admire his handy work. _Not bad for three day's work, he said to himself. He made several mental notes of some last minute touches, then reached for some sand paper to smooth out the rough edges. _

            Rose Gamgee...Wilcome smiled as he put the two names together in his mind. Suddenly, he was a small lad again, wrestling with her on the hearth after supper, racing her to the old Cotton Hole, playing tea party with her even though he didn't want to. How could time have slipped away so fast? When had his twin sister, his other half, become a lady?

            He scrubbed at the wood in front of him, dust falling into a pile at his feet. He always knew that this day would come, ever since that first day he had seen Rose's hand in Sam's under the shade of the Party Tree. He hadn't been happy with the thought then. Truthfully, he had been downright jealous. But at the same time he had known that there would be no other lad he would trust with his sister's hand more than Sam Gamgee. 

            The methodical scrape of the paper against the wood grain echoed through the shed, and Wilcome's mind was lulled into memory. He remebered the day, and remembered it well, that he had finally admitted to himself that Rosie was in love...

*   *   *

            Wilcome, Rose and Sam nestled in the straw in the back of the cart, bouncing as the wooden wheels met the bumps in the road. Farmer Cotton had agreed to take the three companions to the market, and he now sat up front with the donkey's reigns, whistling a tune to himself. It was a common melody, one that most hobbit lads and lasses learned before they could walk, and soon Sam joined in with the words. Rosie laughed with delight and clapped along to the duet, eventually breaking into song herself. Off to the side Wilcome sat quietly, not singing, but watching his twin sister.

            Wilcome smiled. Rosie had always turned the Hobbit-lad's heads, even before they had reached their tweens. In more recent days, there had actually been a number of lads that had come calling for her. She had been nice enough to all of them--Rose was amiable by nature--but had gracefully rejected their offers of flowers and courtship. Wilcome had often wondered why she would turn down such offers. Most lasses would jump at the chances she often recieved. However, sitting in the cart that day and watching Rose and Sam's sing-along, Wilcome had to admit to himself that he had known the answers to his questions all along.

            No one had ever been able to do what Sam was capable of. When Rose was around him, he made her...Wilcome rubbed his chin thoughtfully. What was the word exactly? When Sam was around, Rose, usually so sure and stubborn, seemed to lose her footing. There was a flutter in her manner, a giggle in her voice...and something in her eyes she saved only for Sam. It was almost as if Sam..._melted _her. Wilcome nodded to himself. That was the word--melted.

            Wilcome wasn't sure if anyone else noticed it. After all, she was his twin, and he seemed to notice more about her than other hobbits. He was the only one out of all his brothers, and even Sam's sister, to notice the change that had come over the both of them in the past few weeks. He remembered the look on Rose's face that day beneath the Party Tree. A twinge of the initial jealousy he had felt that afternoon returned for a moment, as he remembered that one day his twin would no longer be his companion alone...soon she would have a new lad in her life. However his envy quickly subsided. All he wanted was for Rose to be happy. And he knew Sam would never let her down.

            The cart jostled to a stop, the hustle and bustle of the market just ahead. Wilcome smiled even wider as he looked up to see Sam helping Rose from the cart. He had taken her hand to steady her, the way a courting lad would do, even though both he and Wilcome knew that Rose was too nimble to fall from a cart. All the same, Rose blushed the color of her namesake. Rose was not an easy blusher. And once on the ground, Wilcome noted the extra squeeze she gave Sam's hand before letting it go.

            _Well_, thought Wilcome, jumping easily down from the cart himself, _If Rose has her heart set on Sam, she'll hear no objections from me._

            "Jolly, will you hurry up? Momma will have our heads if we're not home for dinner."

            Hastily, Wilcome snatched a basket from the cart and headed down the hill to join his sister and his friend. _I only hope Sam's up for the chase--that girl is the most stubborn lass I've ever known._

~~~~~~~~ 

                "You wanted something, Sam?"

                Wilcome sat, mug of ale in hand, on the sturdy little bench outside the Cotton's hobbit hole. The night was bright and quiet, and he had come out after supper to have a drink in the moonlight. To his surprise, he had found Sam on the front walk, pacing back and forth as if he were trying to wear away the stones. He had also been muttering to himself, as he often did when he was nervous about something. And Wilcome had a sneaking suspicion he knew what it was about.

            Sam had stopped in front of Wilcome, looking as if he wanted to say something but could not find the words.

            "Well, you see, Jolly…I…well, the reason I'm here…" his voice faded and he looked down at his hands, which were currently wringing his hat like a dishtowel. 

            "Why don't you sit down?"

            Sam nodded gratefully and took a step toward the bench, then took a step back and shook his head. "I think it'd be best for me to stay standing," he said, obviously trying to keep his nerves under foot.  "I'm right glad you came out here, Jolly, seeing as you were the one I came here to speak to. You see, I know it's only proper for a lad to go to the father first, but I know how special Rose is to you, her being your twin and all. It's only right for me to ask you first." Here he stopped, on the brink of the question. Wilcome waited patiently for him to continue, knowing full well that this was an obstacle Sam had to jump over himself. He smiled as he saw resolution form on Sam's face, and heard him mutter something about giving himself the chance. "I wanted to ask your permission to court Miss Rose."

            Wilcome sat for a moment, pleased at what he was hearing. Of all the lads that had come to call for Rose, Sam was the first to even think about asking her twin brother before all else. He was amused at the fact that a hobbit four years his major would come to him to ask permission for something. But Sam never needed to ask in the first place—he already had Wilcome's full confidence. "You want to court my sister," he repeated. Sam nodded, looking as if he had reached his nerve's end. He added the next out of pure jest—they did not call him Jolly for nothing. "Why?"

            Wilcome, expecting to see Sam blanche, was surprised when the lad almost laughed. "Why?" Sam repeated. "If you don't mind my saying, Jolly, that's like asking the birds why they sing, or the stars why they shine. They don't know why they do it, only that it makes them happy, and that they can't live without it no how. I love your sister, Jolly. I love Rose Cotton. And I don't care if all the world knows it." His face shone with a confidence Wilcome had rarely seen before. "_That's_ why." 

            Another moment of silence passed, in which Wilcome surveyed Sam thoughtfully and Sam returned to his nervous state of wringing his hat. Then Wilcome stood, went over to Sam, and gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Samwise Gamgee, I would be honored to have you court my sister. I would dread to see Rose in any other lad's arms but yours."

            Sam's face broke into a wide grin and he embraced his friend, overcome with relief. He had said yes. Yes. The word sounded so good in his ears.

            Wilcome reached for his mug and handed it to Sam. "You're going to need a bit of this, Sam." He took the crumpled hat from Sam's hands and tossed it on the bench. "And it's probably best if you leave this here."

            Sam took the cup and swallowed a grateful mouthful. "Why?"

            Wilcome patted him on the back and ushered him toward the front door of the Cotton hole. "Because. You still have to talk to my father," he said with a smile.

*   *   *

            "Jolly!"

            Wilcome returned to the present, his mother's voice calling him urgently from the side of the house. He gave his gift one last glance before leaving the shed and stepping into the dazzling sunlight. 

            His mother was at the kitchen window, a look of panic on her face. Wilcome ran to her side. "Momma, what's wrong?"

            "Oh, Jolly! It's Rose! I—I think she's run off!"

            "Run off?!"

            Lily Cotton patted her hair distractedly. "I went to her room to see if she needed anything and she was gone! I searched the house, and she's not in the yard…oh Jolly, what if she's scared?"

            Wilcome shook his head. "Not our Rose, momma. Maybe she just went for a walk." Mrs. Cotton looked doubtful. "Listen, you just keep baking, and make sure Sam and Rose have the finest cake the Shire's ever seen…I'll go and see if I can find her."

            "Thank you, Jolly dear," Lily said with relief. She leaned out the window and placed a quick kiss on the top of his head, then sent him on his way. "Don't let the others know, if you can help it!" She called to his back.

            He raised a hand in reply. No use causing a panic where there wasn't need for one. At least he hoped there wasn't need for one.


	5. I Belong to You

Author's Note: Hello again from the realm of all things Lemondroppy! First of all, I surrender myself to any reprimand I receive for being gone so long, because I deserve whatever I get. I have no excuse for being gone as long as I have, and I apologize. This chapter was tough. And my muse was stubborn. But it's done, it's here, and hopefully the rest of the story will go a bit smoother. A little note to you all: you people make my day, seriously. One of the best parts about writing this story is getting feedback, and I can't thank you enough for taking time to read and review for my story. hugs for all I hope I haven't lost you all as an audience in my absence…Now, for some individual gushing...

** Aemilia Rose**: Where _has _Rose gone? Good, I'm glad you liked that quote...I was a little worried when I re-read it, because I thought it might be too soon for Sam to say something like that...but when I'm writing, I have to let the characters do what _they_ want, not what _I_ want, and at that moment, that's what Sam wanted to say. So I let him say it :)

**ENTr Imperceptus**: "The characters are so alive it's just amazing." faints from ego inflation Wow, I'm _so _happy you can feel the characters that way! Thank you, too, for your suggestion: constructive criticism rocks, because this _is_ a learning experience for me after all. Truthfully, I am known to get carried away with description, and I wanted the focus in this story to be the characters. So I guess in my effort to cut down on description I almost cut it out entirely...oops. Seriously, I could make this thing an epic, but I wasn't sure what kind of attention span I would be drawing in FFN. Of course, if you're still reading this, then you must have a pretty good attention span :) Anyway, from here on out, there will be more description involved, because the situation has changed...you'll see what I mean in this chapter.

** Graciloo**: Gee, thanks! Fantasmagorical is my new favorite word :)

** Herculeha**: Gosh, you think Tolkein would be proud? I hope so...thank you _so _much! And Jolly thanks you for the food and sends his hugs :)

** Rowen**: Thanks for clapping! I do that too! I'm glad I'm not the only one :) As I said before, the characters control me, not the other way around, and Jolly just hopped out of my pen and onto the page. He wanted a chapter, and I had to give it to him :)

** Danny Barefoot**: Many thanks! Yeah, I really liked the Party Tree moment…it's like the turning point for Sam and Rose. Glad to see you back, and hope you enjoy the chapter.

Again: **thank you everyone**! Enjoy the chapter! --- luv, luck, and spring is finally here, Lemondrop

! ! !

An exasperated Merry trudged down the hill toward Bag End, looking off in the direction Pippin had indicated Sam went off in, but that had been over an hour ago—best to see what Frodo thought of the matter. Around him the inhabitants of Hobbiton milled in utter delight, completely oblivious to the fact that the groom had gone missing. They continued their preparations, occasionally breaking out in song while completing their tasks. Someone had taken the liberty of opening one of the ale barrels, and was now being scolded by a disgruntled looking Hobbitess. Flowers flew through the air as the children tossed stray blossoms about. Merry tried to make his way without a fuss, though he did not miss an opportunity to stop and chat for a moment with a very special lass. He was not in a hurry. Unlike Pippin, he was confident that Sam would not run off for good…would he?

On the opposite side of the field, the Hobbit lad ran to where the tents had finally been set up. He found the Hobbitess who had sent him to check on the cake and told her that he didn't know if it was done or not. When she began to scold him, he stopped her with an intriguing story of a conversation he had heard outside the Cotton's kitchen window...

! ! !

The trees linked arms above Sam's head as he walked further into the heart of Hobbiton. His eyes rested on the ground in front of his traveling feet, not really focusing on anything in particular, for he was lost in the memories that had blanketed him all morning. He had almost forgotten what a trying experience that night at the Cotton's farm had been for him…he, only just past his tweens, standing in front of the Cotton's fireplace…in the exact same spot that he had met Rose so many years ago…scared to death of the Hobbit that sat in the chair before him, of the words he would hear coming from Farmer Cotton's mouth when he finished his request. At that moment in time, it had been the scariest thing he had ever done in his life. The scariest thing…

Unbidden, a thousand pictures flashed across his mind's eye—orcs; arrows; fire; ash—_No_—marshes; faces; Shelob; darkness—_Stop_—swords; oliphaunts; wraiths—_Please_—tears; blood; Frodo—

Sam pinched his eyes shut, trying to stop his tears from escaping. _No_. He told himself firmly. _You're not going to do this now, Sam. Not today. _

His eyes fell back to the dirt path, this time watching the sunspots that danced like little yellow puddles on the ground, his mind fishing for something else to dwell on. How many times had he walked the length of this road? More than he could count, certainly. He had taken a trip to the Cotton's hole almost every night of his and Rose's courtship…until the night he'd had to leave…

! ! !

Sam rounded the final bend in the road and exited the shade of the trees to find the familiar view of the Cotton's farm spanning before him. The sun was low in the sky, hanging from the clouds like a fat yellow dewdrop and caramelizing the graceful hills of the Cotton hole with golden light. The tendrils of autumn had just begun to take hold of the surrounding trees, so that shocks of orange and red shot through the otherwise green hillsides. Autumn always made Sam feel a bit sad, seeing his beloved plants beginning to recoil for their winter slumber. _But it's all a part of life_, Sam always reminded himself. _Always changing whether you like it or not._

Rose sat at the top of the hill on the sturdy wooden bench in the front yard, curls tumbling around her shoulders, blue skirts spread around her in soft folds. Sam stopped in his tracks as he spotted her, stunned by the beauty that had taken his breath so many times before. She was bathed in the same sunlight that gilded the field, and for a moment Sam was sure she was really glowing with a light that could only belong to the great elves of legend.

Quite a long time had passed since that day beneath the Party Tree, and in that time Sam had been, in a way, rediscovering Rose. He had always known her, but with the heart of a friend; now he was beginning to know her with the heart of a lover. There were little things—her turned up nose, the way she laughed, how her eyes sparkled—that had always been beautiful, but had never before been so…_beautiful_. Now he watched as she raised a delicate hand to turn a page in the book that rested in her lap; the simple movement entranced him as if he had never seen a hand move before.

Tears bit at the back of Sam's throat as he remembered what business had brought him here; he hadn't thought leaving would be this hard. He had agreed to accompany his master on his journey months ago, but then Frodo's birthday had seemed such a long way away. Now here he stood, on the eve of the 23rd—ready to go, but not ready to leave. _You're not going to be gone forever_, Sam scolded himself. Still, something tugged at the back of Sam's mind, a silent worry that he _wouldn't_ be back, that this would be the last time he would see her. Again, he pushed the feeling away. _Ninnyhammer_, he scolded again, _you're only going to Rivendell…how long could that take? Mr. Bilbo never seemed to think it was all that far…_ All the same, he let his eyes trace over every outline of Rose, starting at her feet and following her every curve until he reached her face. He felt the desperate urge to etch that vision of her in his mind, so that no matter how long he would be gone, he would be able to retrieve this picture of her and remember.

"Sam!"

Just as Sam's eyes met Rose's face, she looked up. Her lips broke into a radiant smile, a smile that never failed to make Sam weak. In a flash, she set down her book and ran down the gray stone path to meet him. Before he knew it she was in his arms, placing a warm, welcoming kiss on his lips. "You're early tonight, Sam love," she said joyously, her arms wrapped around his neck.

Sam smiled. "I know. I didn't even have to come to your window."

Rose giggled. A pleasant shiver ran through Sam's body as she slid her hand down his arm, her palm coming to rest against his. "Come inside," she smiled, leading him by the hand up the front stone walk toward the Cotton hole. "I've just finished some baking. There's a pie in the—"

Sam gave a gentle tug on her arm to stop her. "Wait a minute, Rose dear." She turned and looked at him, the look on her face pleasantly inquisitive. A stray curl bounced in front of her eyes, and Sam resisted the urge to reach out and tuck it behind her ear. He had to tell her. Before he lost his nerve. Before he looked at her one more time and changed his mind about leaving. He pushed himself to speak. "I need to talk to you about something."

A grin and a slight blush came to Rosie's cheeks. "Oh?" She raised her eyebrows in surprised question.

Sam shifted his feet uncomfortably. He knew very well that, under normal circumstances, it would soon be time for him to be asking for Rosie's hand. She would be expecting it any day now. And oh, how he wanted to ask her. He took her hand in both of his, felt her softness and her warmth. A vision flashed across his mind—Rose in her wedding dress, then on their wedding night; Rose with a tiny hobbit babe—_their_ hobbit babe—in her arms; sitting by the fire with some after supper tea and a pipe, his arm around her shoulders as she drifted off to sleep—a future that he longed to reach out and take for his own. _But these are not normal circumstances, Samwise_, he reminded himself. He blinked back a few tears that threatened to fall. He had other obligations, had made other promises, that needed to be fulfilled before new ones could be made; no matter how much he wanted to be in two places at once, he knew that it wasn't possible. He took a deep breath and spoke to their hands. "I have to go away for a while. Mr. Frodo needs me to help him on a trip he's taking, you might say."

"Oh." The disappointment in Rose's voice was slight, but it was enough to make Sam's heart want to break. He kept his eyes down, afraid that if he looked at her he would not be able to stop the tears he was holding back. She quickly recovered; "Well that's lovely," she said, her voice filled with genuine happiness for him, which only made his heart ache more. _Never thinking of herself…my dear, sweet Rose_. "You'll be going with him to Buckland then, won't you? I think it's terribly sad he's gone and sold Bag End to those Sackville-Bagginses; it's such a pretty place for him to be leaving." Rose led Sam the rest of the way up the path and returned to her spot on the bench, one of their favorite sitting places. "You don't know what's made him do it, do you Sam?"

Still looking at his hands, Sam shook his head feebly, though he knew full well what had made Mr. Frodo take such rash action. "Actually, Rose…he'll be taking me a bit farther than Buckland…"

Rose looked utterly confused. "Farther than Buckland? But…there is no place farther than Buckland. Unless you mean to…"

Sam only nodded.

Rose's eyes widened at the very thought of her Sam venturing into the world outside the Shire…the world of elves and dwarves and men. "When will you be back?" she said in a hushed voice.

Finally, Sam brought his eyes, shining sorrowfully, to meet Rose's. "I don't know," he whispered in return. His face was wrought with confusion and fear, longing and controversy. Rose was reminded of long ago, of a little hobbit lad who cried when he was lost in the market, looking for a familiar hand to take his and lead him home.

Not able to bear the look on Sam's face, Rose did the only thing she could think of to do, the only thing that her heart called her to do; she sprung from the bench and into his arms, placing a quick kiss on his tear splashed cheeks.

For a moment, Sam did nothing but stare into her compassionate blue eyes. Then he took her chin in his hands and kissed her as he never had before. Rose gasped in surprise, but soon pulled herself closer to him, desperately clinging to the lad she loved so much. Her heart was stretched to the breaking point, love and worry and desire pushing at the very walls of her chest until she felt she would burst. All she wanted was to know how to help him—how to make things better, so she would never have to see that look on his face again.

He buried his fingers in her hair as he deepened the kiss, wishing more than anything that this moment could last forever, that he would never have to leave the comfort of Rose's arms. Soon his cheeks were wet with her tears as well as his own. They broke away, and Sam rested his forehead against Rose's. She found his hands and locked her fingers with his, and Sam was transported back to his tweenage years, when Rose had first taken his hand in hers…and with it, his heart.

Rose raised their hands to her lips and kissed his fingers; Sam felt the moisture from her cheeks on his fingertips, while his own tears continued to splash down on their knuckles. Her sparkling blue eyes locked with his, filled with love and understanding and stubborn determination forged from spending so many years in a household of lads.

"You listen to me, Samwise," she whispered, and Sam was surprised to hear that she fought to keep her voice steady. He gave her hands a squeeze as she continued. "_I belong to you_. Frodo could take you to the Misty Mountains and it wouldn't matter because I will _always_ belong to you. And I'll be waiting for the day when you come strolling back up this front walk to knock on my window and sit on the bench with me like you always do." She smiled softly, reached up to brush his sandy-brown locks from his eyes. "I'll wait for as long as it takes."

Sam pulled her into a gentle embrace, wrapped his arms around her warm shoulders and buried his face into her neck. She rubbed his back soothingly until his tears subsided. Then, for a long while the simply held each other, each taking comfort in the other's silence.

! ! !

Thinking back, Sam could hardly remember how he found the will to leave Rose standing in front of the Cotton hole that evening. All he remembered was turning around for one last look as he reached the end of the stone walk; the setting sun bathing the sky with crimson fury, with Rose sitting alone on the bench the two of them had occupied for so many times before. It was a sight that Sam had often called to mind in the days after, when all hope had seemed to have abandoned him. He knew that Rose would not forget him.

Sam shook his head sadly. The Cotton farm had been razed to the ground during Sharkey's rule. The quiet front lawn with the stone walk and the bench was long gone. Still, it sometimes brought him a sense of comfort to sit in the spot where the bench had once been. As if memory sprung from the ground like an old vine to cradle him when he needed to think.

He rounded the final bend and exited the shade of the trees…


	6. Goodbye Sam, Goodbye Hole part 1

**Author's note**: Hello, all! Thank you soooooo much for giving me such a warm greeting upon my return (however short that return was)...it was most definitely appreciated. I actually would like to apologize for the extra helping of cheese that I seemed to have piled on last chapter. Looking back at it, I believe it is some of the cheesiest stuff I have ever written. I may go back and revise it someday. But no matter; it is a road block averted, however ungracefully, and has allowed me to move on with the rest of the story. The first flashback in this chapter was completely and absolutely the first thing I wrote for this story, which I had almost forgotten about, and was utterly pleased when I stumbled across it in my journal. I hope you enjoy it.

**_Another_ Author's note** This chapter isn't finished the way I want it to be. It should really be about the length of two chapters done correctly. However, I believe my plot bunny has been hit by a car...or a mac truck...or something. So just keep in mind that this is "Chapter 6: Part 1" and should not end where it does by a long shot. But I've kept you waiting so long, I feel I should at least share with you what I have done. Alas, I have no idea when part two will follow...but when my plot bunny is resurrected, I'll let you all be the first to know.

So without further ado, tally ho!

Hugs, luv, and creme soda,

Lemondrop

* * *

The party field was consumed in voracious rumor. 

"She said Rose had left! Can't find her anywhere!"

"Are you sure?"

"That's what the little Proudfoot lad said; heard Lily fretting at the window about it when he went to ask her about the cake…"

"Didn't he say she sent Jolly out to look for Rose?"

"Yes, but there's not much hope in finding her before midday, if running is what she plans to do..."

"You know, I saw her talking with another lad in the market just last week..."

"No! Do you really think..."

"_Absolutely not_!" Pippin objected loudly as he passed. He'd no idea how stories grew so outlandish among the Shirelings, but he certainly was not in the mood to hear them spread about before his ears. He pushed his way through the chattering crowd, trying to figure out what to do next. First Sam, now Rose...what in the world were they up to? _Well_, Pippin thought to himself, _At least no one else knows that Sam's walked off as well_.

"Pippin!" A voice called behind him. He turned to see Merry swimming through the crowd himself. "Sam's not back yet!" Merry shouted, unable to contain himself until he came within normal speaking distance of Pip. "Frodo says he went off to think, but _I've _got a feeling he's gone and got himself a pair of cold feet!"

The hobbits around them went suddenly quiet at the news.

Pippin groaned.

Lily Cotton threw her towel onto the table in nervous frustration. How was she supposed to bake a cake while her daughter was missing? On the morning of her wedding, no less! For the third time since Jolly had left, Mrs. Cotton bustled over to the window and looked out over the yard. How long had he been gone? Ten minutes? She shook her head worriedly. Where were they?

She returned to her cake, measuring here, mixing there, all the while her mind scrambling about for something to occupy it while she waited. Her thoughts had not strayed far from her daughter when she slipped into a memory she had almost completely forgotten...

Lily was on her way into the kitchen with the empty cups from after-supper tea when a soft sob escaped from behind Rose's door. Wondering what it could be about, she set the tray down on the floor and gave a gentle tap.

"Come in," she heard Rose call after a moment. With a turn of the knob and a creak of the hinges, Lily peeked inside her daughter's room.

Rose sat on her bed, dressed in her night gown, with a book propped against her knees and an innocent smile on her face. The untrained eye would see the Hobbit lass as nothing less than radiant, but being a mother of five had not left Lily without instinct; there were telltale signs that her daughter had been crying. She knew better than to confront Rose openly, however, and she simply returned Rose's smile as she stepped into the room.

"You missed tea tonight Rosie," she said casually, moving to tidy the dress Rose had left in a heap at the foot of her bed, "and I'm afraid the boys have gone and eaten all of that wonderful pie you made after supper."

"Oh, that's alright," Rose returned just as nonchalantly, "I'll see if I'll make another for tomorrow."

Lily nodded, shaking the wrinkles from the dress and taking it across the room to the wardrobe. "Where were you off to so quick after supper?"

"Oh," Rose said again, this time sounding slightly trodden on. "Just out and about. I spent some time in the front garden, then Sam and I...Sam--"

Mrs. Cotton turned from the wardrobe and looked at her hobbit lass, who was now just barely holding back her tears. Rose quickly averted her eyes and directed her attention to the book in her lap, though it was clear she was reading nothing that was in front of her. "What about Sam, dear?" Lily asked quietly. For a moment, she thought that Rose had chosen to ignore her. Then Rose pressed a hand to her lips, stifling a hiccup of a sob. Lily went to her daughter's bedside and wrapped her arms around her, and she immediately dissolved into fresh tears.

"What if I never see him again, momma?" she whispered, clinging to her mother's apron. "What if I never see him again?"

Mrs. Cotton clicked her tongue in gentle reprimand. "Dear child, you could not have done anything so terrible as to drive him away forever. Your Samwise loves you more than that."

Rose fought her outburst down to a few solemn tears and pulled away from her mother's embrace. Mrs. Cotton reached out and dried her daughter's cheek with the edge of her apron. "Now what exactly happened today, Rosie?"

Sniffling worriedly, Rose recounted what Samwise had told her about his going away with Frodo Baggins. However, when she put it so plainly, his task sounded to Lily less like a crisis and more like a holiday. She shook her head and smiled, then took Rose's hand in hers. "I know that weeks can seem like years to a young hobbitess in love, but what you have to--"

"No, momma," Rose protested, pushing her mother's hands away. She had known it would come down to this--mother telling her little girl that she should know better, and would be wiser when she grew up. But Rose was grown now. Her mother had not been there to hear the fear and despair in Sam's voice. Hadn't he said he did not know when he would be back? Hadn't he held her hands and spoken to her more seriously than he ever had before? Hadn't he taken her in his arms and kissed her as if it would be his last?

Rose looked at her mother's expectant face and knew that nothing she could say would sway her mother's mind. Her mother was simply too set in her ways, too used to how normal Hobbits went about their business. Rose did her best to smile in admittance. "You're right. I'm probably overreacting. I'm sure Sam will be home soon."

"I'm proud of you, Rosie," Lily said, patting Rose's hand in a motherly fashion and rising stiffly from the bed. "Maybe my little girl is growing up after all." She moved to the door, a mass of skirts and hobbit feet, evidently pleased that she had talked good reason into her little hobbit lass. The door closed behind her, leaving Rose to finish shedding her tears in solitude.

Lily poured the cake batter into one of her round iron pans, telling herself that her sniffly nose and watery eyes were a result of the loose flour in the air, not the memory that had just decided to play through her head. At the time, Rose hadn't made any sense. Why would a lad who was so in love with a lass simply up and leave instead of taking her hand and settling down? It was simply against hobbit nature to travel--so Lily, of course, had dismissed Rose's fears as irrational. Any Hobbitess would have done the same. Wouldn't she?

_But you had forgotten how crazy those Bagginses could be at times_, Lily reminded herself. And it was because of her forgetfulness that she had shown Rose little to no sympathy. Even when, weeks later, Sam had not returned for Rose. Even when, months later, there was still no word from him or Frodo. Even when, at the end of a year, they were all presumed to be dead, and most of the Shire had forgotten about them. Instead, she had tried to get her daughter to move on, to set her sights again within the borders of the Shire.

Rose had refused.

And Lily had not understood why.

She finished filling the cake pans and scooted them into the oven. Maybe if she had listened to Rose that night in September they wouldn't be having this problem right now. Maybe her less than enthusiastic acceptance of Sam's unorthodox return, in those outlandish clothes and looking like an entirely different lad, had planted some idea in Rose's head.

Maybe Rose had left today because her mother's eternal doubt had finally invaded her mind as well.

Lily wiped the tears of self pity from her face, forcing herself to stop questioning her motherhood. Perhaps it was what she deserved for being so old fashioned. She got some milk to begin on the icing, stopping briefly at the window as she moved toward the table. Jolly had to be coming back soon...

* * *

Rose plopped down onto the grass, her skirts puffing out beneath her and floating slowly to the ground. It had not been easy to let Sam go that night, to let him walk off into the woods without a clue as to when he'd be back. Now, Rose sat at the top of the hill where the Cotton Hole had once been, looking out over the same woods where she had watched Sam disappear that life-altering September night. She had stood there in the strengthening dark, her toes and fingers and nose growing numb in the cool night air, staring blankly into the trees as her mind and heart scurried about wildly. Finally, when the last of the stars had winked their greeting, she had forced herself to go inside.

She remembered quite clearly the conversation that had followed with her mother. The tears she had shed. The sleepless night she had spent. The smile she had donned for breakfast, and for lunch, and for hours and days and weeks after.

And the hope she had clung to. That had never wavered.

Until the night they lost the Hole.


End file.
